life, apparently

Here's the story. My parents were married very young (age 15 & 18) and purposefully had children two years after they were married. [My mom's 30th birthday was quite a production and I remember every detail because I was in high school. Isn't that crazy? I turned 30 a year after my son's birth and almost no one noticed.] They divorced when I was 5 and my mom left custody to my dad because he had a reliable job (she had never had a job) and a house (which I assume she didn't think or want to fight for in court). She still feels guilty about this decision. My father was abusive. My mother didn't know or didn't recognize his behavior as abuse (which is not surprising given her own father, after all my sister and I never required medical care unlike her and her sisters). My father was (and still is as far as I know) an alcoholic and drug addict and dealer. It is not the physical abuse that haunts me. I without any question received the vast majority of abuse (in fact, I'm not so sure my sister would claim to have been abused herself) but I always viewed it as 1) protecting my sister and step-sisters and 2) as his problem - I had a keen awareness that I (all of us really) were quite good children and that he must be so angry for reasons unrelated to us. What haunts me is the abandonment. In 6th grade I ran away (all the way across the street) and decided that I wanted to move it with my mother (who was just about to get remarried and had what appeared to be a stable life finally). As it turns out I ran away on Father's Day and my father told me that day that if I left, he'd never speak to me again. He also demanded a reason. I told him it was the drug abuse and he denied using drugs. So I told him it was because I didn't like my step-mom (which was actually true but not reason enough to move out). He did speak to me again. My sister moved with me but not because she wanted to, really, but because she didn't want to be alone (she was always a daddy's girl). We did the every-other-weekend thing for a while but soon after the move I was banned from returning because I was too mouthy. They went on vacation without me, celebrated holidays, etc. I can't exactly remember how long my sister continued visitation but I think it was pretty much until she had her first serious high school sweetheart and decided that weekends were for boyfriends instead of dads.

My dad had a sort of interesting approach to keeping in contact with me after the move. He sometimes sent birthday and Christmas cards and/or gifts. He sometimes didn't. He sometimes sent these for my sister (her birthday is less than a month after mine) but not me. I can't tell you how many holidays ended with a good long cry wondering why I wasn't important enough for my own father to remember.

Before my wedding (almost 5 years ago) I spent many sleepless nights wondering what I'd do if my father failed to show up at my wedding. I decided not to invite him and I sent him a letter (a year in advance) informing him why and telling him that he had a choice. He could continue his behavior as is or he could chose to perform the bare minimum duties of fatherhood and contact me on holidays and even (gasp!) on an occasional non-holiday. We talked on the phone after I sent him the letter and I could tell that he was upset about it. He apologized and explained that this was how he thought a father should behave, it was what his father taught him. His philosophy was that he sent me into he world prepared for anything and I would contact him if I needed anything. (In fact, he was always eager to respond to a request for anything (usually money) a fact my sister took full advantage of. I do have this semi-bizarre sense that my father would do anything I asked of him except just being a father and or a grandfather.) His behavior did not change and I did not invite him to my wedding.

That was really a life changing event for me. I (for the most part) lost my guilt over not being the perfect daughter and lost some sense of embarrassment/shame/? that I wasn't good enough for my own father to love (though not all of it). Until my son was born. Then I felt some obligation to try to allow him to be a grandfather. I sent pictures and notes. He sent cards and money the first year. Nothing the second year and then this year he sent via overnight mail so it arrived in time, a birthday card, note, temporary tatoos, and money. And a Christmas card and money. I never responded. I thought about it but I don't want to play games anymore. I told him pre-wedding that he has to be in or out of my life I can't take anything in the middle. So Christmas passed with no card or call and his birthday passed with a twinge of guilt but no card or call. I worry that when he dies I will not recover from a surge of guilt, shame, sadness, etc. but I push that away for now and focus on ensuring that my son knows that I love him endlessly with no reservations (despite the fact that he is of the .05% of toddlers who clearly and unquestionably prefer their father to their mother for any and every event in life*).

*no I'm not bitter or jealous, why do you ask?

Labels: Thursday Confessions

// posted by apparently @ 9:59 PM